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I once went to meet a TV exec I had met at a speed-dating night, and the first thing he said to me was “Oh, are you wearing THAT?” by-passing the hello completely. When I tried to protest that my vintage bottle green see-through shirt, jeans and boots comb was my favourite outfit, he told me that he was taking me to an uptown bar in New York where all the women were “beautiful and sophisticated” and he didn’t want me to feel “intimidated.” What a charmer! But it didn’t end there. As we headed uptown on the subway, and I floundered through polite conversation, he told me I was talking too loudly. I went flame red with embarrassment, at which point he then peered at me and told me I might be ‘one hot chick’ if I made more of an effort with my appearance. How do you manage to struggle through an evening after that?

Another time I went home with a date, and the moment we got through the door of his apartment he began trying to rip my clothes off before crossly instructing me to ‘take off his pants’ because I was moving too slowly for him. I ended up leaving shortly afterwards, one sock down, but I happily sacrificed it to the night. Another time I went to meet a date in a SoHo, went to the wrong bar by mistake and ended up rushing up to the wrong guy and asking him, “Are you Michael?” No was the answer. “I’ll be Michael if you want!” said one of his friends said before they all burst out laughing. I spent the next hour sitting alone at the bar squashed between NOT Michael, his giggling pals and a cozy couple, with everyone in the place knowing I had been stood up on a blind date.